It was stressful, this owning a business thing. But with the added income of my salary from Gray Wolf, we were doing okay.
“I need to run to the hardware store,” I told her the moment her customers left the office.
“Why?”
I jammed a thumb over my shoulder, gesturing toward the supply closet. “You don’t have half what I need to fix that sink in twelve. And there are some things that we should just have on hand in case there’s an emergency.”
She sighed. “I know. My handyman was always complaining he didn’t have a big enough budget to buy everything he needed. I thought he was exaggerating, but when he was gone and I had to make some repairs, I realized he wasn’t, but I didn’t know what to buy.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” I leaned over the counter and kissed her gently. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t be too long.”
I jumped into my Bronco and headed into town, turning up the radio as I did. This was my idea of a good Saturday afternoon. I was surprisingly content despite the fact that this was definitely not how I saw my future when I left Santa Monica. I was miserable when I left Ash’s compound, determined that nothing would ever bring me pleasure again. But, look at me, less than a month later. I’d gone from cuckolded loser to happily married in the stretch of just a few weeks. And things were working out well with Gray Wolf. They finally had their offices set up and Hank had me working on a potential embezzling scheme in a tech firm out of Casper that wrapped up nice as a bow just yesterday. They were getting more cases now, enough that they’d hired two new operatives who were supposed to arrive this afternoon.
Things were beginning to look up. I was optimistic that it would stay that way.
I pulled up to the small mom-and-pop hardware store in downtown Midnight, slipped my keys in my pocket, and walked into the musty, wood dust smelling place. It reminded me of the hardware store my father used to take me to every Saturday. He rarely bought anything. It was more of a hangout, a place to have coffee with his buddies away from my mom’s watchful eye.
Funny how smells could remind you so strongly of home.
I was getting a little nostalgic lately, thinking more and more of home. I’d managed to put it out of my mind while I was in Afghanistan, when I moved my life to Santa Monica to be close to Misty. But I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
I missed home. I was sorry I was no longer welcome there.
“What can I do for you, Mr. North?” John Brandt, the clerk, asked.
“I need to stock up on supplies for the maintenance closet back at the motel. We have almost nothing, but we particularly need plumbing supplies, pipes and things.”
“Over here.”
He led the way down the aisle and we began picking out pieces here and there, discussing the types of repairs I’d been making over the last few weeks and the repairs we anticipated the place would need as winter progressed. We ended up with an impressive pile of things, pipes and wrenches and roofing supplies and winterizing sheets and caulk and dozens of other things I might not have thought of without John’s help. I was standing in front of the hardware section, trying to remember what size and how many nails we had. John had carried the rest of my chosen items to the counter to begin the process of checking out, so I was alone.
At least I thought I was.
“Hello, Grainger.”
She was just as beautiful as I’d remembered, a part of my mind remembering the ache with which I’d studied the pictures she sent me during my final deployment to Afghanistan. Blond hair, blue eyes. Porcelain skin. She was flawless, like the perfect selfies she tirelessly photoshopped before uploading them to her personal website. Fake like the selfies she tirelessly photoshopped before uploading them to her personal website.
“Misty.”
She smiled, the tip of her tongue barely touching her bottom lip as she looked me over.
“I thought they were lying when they told me you’d come to some nowhere town in the middle of Wyoming. But then I saw that old Bronco parked outside and knew it wasn’t a lie.”
“Not a lie.”
“What are you doing here, Grainger? This isn’t you.”
“Why are you here?”
She shrugged, managing to look a little abashed. “Jake was deployed and I just...I realized I made a mistake. He was just a fling. He’d never be the husband to me that you would have been. I came to tell you, I was wrong. And I want to make it right.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, my eyes narrowing a little. Two months ago, I would have done anything to hear her utter those words. But now? Too much had changed.
“I don’t think there is any way to make it right. You ran off with my best buddy.”
“I know.”
“While we were planning our wedding.”
“I know. But I regret it.”
“I’m glad,” I said, realizing I meant it. I was glad she was capable of feeling regret. But it didn’t change anything.
She touched my arm, her hand like silk, her nails perfectly manicured. “I miss you, Grainger. I want you to come home.”
“I am home, Misty.”
Her eyes narrowed a little, that famous anger I’d gotten to know over our eight-month courtship burning in her eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I’ve found a place for myself here and I’m not interested in going back.” I lifted her hand off my arm and dropped it down to her side. “You should go back, write Jake a long letter and apologize. Or go find yourself some other sailor to warm your bed at night because it won’t be me.”
I walked off, feeling a little taller, a little lighter, like a burden had just evaporated.
***
Rachel was having a difficult night. I could hear her yelling through the thin wall between our rooms, could hear the lighter tones of Eve trying to reason with her. It was bed time, but Rachel didn’t recognize her own things and was convinced that Eve was a stranger who’d kidnapped her out of her parents’ home.
I waited as long as I could. But I wasn’t going to sit there and wait for Rachel to become violent. That wasn’t going to happen on my watch ever again.
I opened the master bedroom door just as Rachel grabbed a baseball bat Eve allowed her to keep beside her bed for some reason. I stepped between them and stopped her downward swing with the palm of my hand.
“No,” I said.
Rachel looked up at me, her eyes widening. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the guy who's going to tell you that if you don’t get your ass in that bed, we’re going to call your parents and tell them what a bad girl you’re being. Do you really want to disappoint your parents that way?”
The color drained from her face. “No, sir.”
“Then get into bed, Rachel.”
She immediately released the bat and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers all the way up to her chin. Her bottom lip quivered as she focused on Eve.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a little girl’s voice.
“It’s okay,” Eve said, moving close to kiss the center of her forehead. “It’s not your fault.”
Rachel watched her as she crossed the room to the door and flipped off the lights. She waited for me to leave before she wished her mother a good night’s sleep and followed, shutting the door behind her.
“I asked you not to interfere,” Eve said the moment we were alone in our room.
“I’m not going to just sit here and wait for her to hurt you, Eve.”
“She wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Should I remind you of the bruises she left on you just a week and a half ago?”
She didn’t respond, busying herself in her preparations for bed. Even angry with her, I couldn’t help but admire curves of her body as she slowly undressed, her back to me. I went to her, ran my hands over her shoulders and down the length of her arms. After a moment, she leaned back against me.
“It’s not like I’m not scared w
hen she acts like that. I just... she’s my mom.”
“I know.”
“She never would have hurt me before.”
“But she’s not always that woman anymore.”
Eve sighed heavily and turned into me, pressing her face against my chest. I held her, smoothing my hand over the back of her head. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, but I couldn’t. She was too smart for that. It wasn’t going to be okay. Her mother was going to continue to deteriorate until the woman she used to be was no longer there, and then she would just be a confused shell of a woman, lost every moment of her life. There was nothing okay about that.
Almost as if the universe was agreeing with me, the entire building suddenly shuddered.
“What the…?”
I pushed Eve toward the bed and grabbed my gun—a 9mm Kirkland had issued to me just last week—and headed for the door.
“Stay here.”
I didn’t wait for Eve to respond. I let myself into to the office only to find Marko absent from his post. The outer door was open and I could hear the chatter of customers standing in their doorways, wondering what the hell was happening. I slipped through the door, holding my gun close against the side of my body so that it was primarily out of sight. I spotted Marko at the far-right corner of the building, staring at something.
“Marko!” I called to him.
He turned, this look of disbelief written all over his face. “You’re not going to believe this!” he yelled back to me.
I ran down to where he was and, sure enough, I almost didn’t believe my eyes. Jim Bob Wallace, in all his wisdom, had somehow driven his car into the corner of the building. Thank goodness, the room he’d hit was empty. His little car was split nearly in half, the stone edge of the building seemingly intact.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I demanded, walking over to the driver’s side where Jim Bob himself was sitting, dazed from a blow to his head.
He didn’t answer, but I hadn’t really expected him to.
“Call 911,” I told Marko.
“Already did. They should be here soon.”
I yanked open the car door and ducked my head in. “Can you hear me, Jim Bob?”
He focused on me for a brief second. “Think I really messed up,” he said, his words slurred. I could smell cheap bourbon on his breath. Idiot was drunk as a skunk.
“What were you thinking?”
“They told me they’d pay me triple to get rid of you. My wife... we need the money.”
“What was the plan?”
He started to shake his head, but flinched with the pain of it. He focused on me, fear living in his rheumy eyes.
“They’re afraid of you. They’re convinced you’ll keep them from taking the motel.”
“They should be afraid.”
Jim Bob closed his eyes. “Tell Eve I’m sorry.”
His body suddenly jerked then, his chest rising and then slamming back into the seat. And then a quick succession of jerks that were violent, threatening to worsen his injuries. A seizure. I’d seen this kind of thing in injured soldiers overseas.
My first thought was that we needed to get him out of the car. My second was that we might make his injuries worse if we moved him. However, the seizure stopped and it was obvious that he was no longer breathing. That took away all our options.
I grabbed his shoulders and yanked. Damn idiot wasn’t wearing a seat belt! What the hell was he planning? Was he trying to drive through my bedroom wall? If that was it, he missed by more than three dozen feet.
I got him on the ground and began CPR. It was part of my SEAL training, an instinct that came to the surface right when I needed it. Five compresses, five breaths. Five and five. Five and five. He coughed a little after the fourth round, but he didn’t open his eyes. He was breathing, that was all that really mattered.
“Grainger?”
I looked up and saw Eve standing with Marko, watching me with wide eyes.
“Stay back. I can smell gas.”
Her eyes got even wider, but Steve, our faithful sheriff, chose that moment to pull up in his squad car, a fire truck not far behind him. I stepped back as the ambulance arrived and the attendants rushed over to assess Jim Bob’s condition.
“What the hell happened here?” Steve demanded.
Marko shrugged. “Seems pretty self-explanatory to me.”
“He was drunk,” I told him. “He was paid to come harass us again, but he stopped for liquid fortification and had too much.”
“Did he say anything?”
I shook my head. “He had a seizure and he’s been unconscious since.”
“Grainger gave him CPR,” Marko announced. “Saved his life.”
“Of course, he did,” Steve muttered. He walked off to survey the damage, making notes in a small notepad that still had the price sticker from the local dollar store on the front. One of his deputies arrived a moment later to help, running up to the scene just in time to watch the paramedics take Jim Bob off to the hospital.
The gas leak was minor. Todd, the guy from the local garage, covered the spilled gas with sand and towed the broken car away on a flatbed truck. There was some chipping and cracks from the impact on the side of the building, but we wouldn’t know the full extent until we had an inspector out to look at it. That would have to wait till morning.
“I’m going to go make some coffee,” Eve said, slipping her hand from mine.
I grabbed her and pulled her back, stealing a kiss before I could let her go. She moved close against me and whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here.”
There was a twinkle in her eye as she moved away, her fingers lingering against mine until she was out reach. I watched her go, feeling even lighter as I basked in the glow coming from her eyes. When I turned, I caught Steve watching us, a darkness in his expression.
“What do you think his real plan was?” Marko asked me.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. There’s not much more he could have done that he hadn’t already.”
“Yeah. That’s what worries me a little.”
I nodded. It worried me, too. What had he meant when he said the developers wanted him to get rid of me? How was he going to do that?
A scream shattered the quiet that was slowly beginning to settle back down over the motel. I recognized it immediately as Eve’s. I turned and ran, feeling the pressure of the gun on the small of my back acutely, almost as if it was warning me of something horrifying.
What now?
I burst through the apartment door and into the kitchen to find Eve on her knees, holding her mother in her arms. There were pill bottles on the floor around them, a few spilled pills here and there, but not many. Rachel’s mouth was slack, her eyes partially open and unfocused. I dropped hard onto my knees and pressed my fingers against her throat, desperately looking for a pulse.
There was none.
Eve was watching me, hope slowly dimming the longer it took for me to focus on her. When I did... I’d never seen a person simply dissolve the way she did in that moment. She screamed, the sound pure agony, pure grief.
She’d done what she’d said she wanted to do without my help. There was a knife on the floor, too. She must have used it to jimmy the pill safe open.
Rachel had gotten what she wanted. But she destroyed Eve in the process.
Chapter 19
At the Ranch
Sutherland slipped out of the house and walked along the lane, needing a few minutes of fresh air and solitude. It was harder than she’d anticipated sitting beside Eve at the cemetery. Listening to Father Mike talk about Rachel, watching them lower the coffin that held her body into the ground, feeling the vibrations of grief rolling through Eve, was all too much. It was all too familiar. It brought back the pain of losing Mitchell, of attending too many funerals all at once at a time that should have been the happiest of her life.
Rachel had been there for her when Mitch
ell died. She wanted to be there for Eve, but it was so much harder... her own grief, the memories of past grief, the idea of a future with one less friend at her side... it was hard.
She just needed a minute.
She walked longer than a minute, walked further than she’d intended to. She didn’t realize how close she was to the south fence until she saw him ride up on his horse. He was painfully handsome, even dressed in blue jeans and a simple dark t-shirt. She found herself wondering what his many legions of female fans would do in this moment, if he were to ride up one of them on the back of such an impressive stallion.
She watched him climb down, watched as he easily vaulted over the fence.
“I heard about your loss. I’m really sorry.”
“I saw your flowers at the church.” Sutherland inclined her head. “Thank you.”
“It was the least I could do.”
She shifted a little, stepping away from him as an awkward silence fell between them. He was watching her, those dark eyes the definition of smoldering. It wasn’t right the way he made her feel, especially now. It felt like a betrayal somehow.
“If there’s anything I can do…”
“You could return my cows.”
He smiled that crooked smile that made her belly do this little flip each time she saw it. “Already done. Your foreman picked them up this morning.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Thank you.”
“I realized I didn’t want to bribe you into going to dinner with me. I want you to do it because you’d like to spend time with me.”
“That’s a nice thought, but I really—”
“Don’t tell me you’re not interested. I’m not blind, Ms. Knight.”
She shuffled her feet, staring down at the toe of her practical flats as she did. “I’m a single mother running two businesses. I don’t have time for interest in a man, Mr. Archer.”
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